Hairy Pimper and the Ghetto of Doom
by Junkyard Angel
Summary: If the idea of Harry Potter as a ghetto homie doesn't amuse you, you'll hate this fic. Harry Potter has been corrupted after watching nothing but Boyz in Da Hood for the whole summer!Not exactly highbrow..
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One: Da Homie Dat Didn't Die

Sup yo? I be Hairy Dursley, in one of da four crackhouses of Ho-warts

Elementary skoo. But mah rents, dey be mad stupid yo, dey don't

understand whatta fine-ass biatch dey got fo' uh son. Like here, at da

breakfast table, dey be all . . .

***

Petunia Dursley opened the front door to her studio apartment, almost

tripping on her 100% crocodile skin Gucci shoes and dropping her Prada

purse. But Hairy Pimper saw none of that. In fact, what he was thinking

was, "Yo, dat biatch's ass be as wide as her minivan!"

"Dudley, darling! Mumsy is here! I have another meeting tonight, so help

yourself to the balls of lard!" she yelled, her lipstick-drenched mouth forming

a gaping maw.

But there was no response.

"Hairy! Get over here, you abomination!"

"Yeah?" Hairy moaned, rolling his eyes. Petunia turned up her nose in

his presence, as usual.

"Where is my dear Dudley?"

"He's not home."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"He's . . . Not . . . Home."

"I don't EVER want to hear you using that kind of language again in this

house! Half-rations tonight!"

"But aunt, I said 'home.' Not 'homie' or 'homedawg' or . . ."

"ENOUGH!"

***

One hour later, I be sittin' in uh dawg cage tryin' not ta set da security

system off. But dis T.V. iz totally whack, yo. All it be playin' iz "Boyz in da

Hood" nonstop all summah! 'Cept dat one tyme where it be playin' "Risky

Bizness." Dat movie wuz phat, yo!

***

"I think the best ways to increase our companies profits are, without a

doubt . . . AAARG!"

Uncle Vernon's business proposal was interrupted by his pager, Palm

Pilot, and cell phone all going off at the same time. With great fanfare, he

pulled the pager out of his pocket and checked it. His wife's office number. 

"Excuse me, please," he said as he stepped into the hall. He pulled out

his Nokia and dialed.

"Hello?"

"I just don't know what to do about -- that thing," Petunia's voice

answered, "Ever since the summer's started, Hairy's been actually enjoying

wearing Dudley's clothes."

"I don't see how he could. Dudley's so much more horizontally endowed

than Hairy. They're so baggy they practically fall off his shoulders!" mused

Vernon.

"And you know that hideous necklace that is so long it hangs to my

stomach? Only 20% real gold! I gave it to him as a pity birthday present but

the child actually wears it daily! He calls it his 'bing bing' or some other

uncouth word! But today is the last straw! As I was working in the garden, a

car pulled up, a window rolled down, and a projectile came right at me! And

instead of a bullet, there was a note!"

"And what did it say?" asked Vernon, eager to get his wife back on

track so he could get back to the meeting.

"It said," Petunia cringed at the memory and at having to recite foul

language, 'We iz comin' ta git Hairy! Hand him ovah or we bust a cap up his

ass, ya dig?'"

They pondered in silence for a few minutes.

"BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?" they both exploded.

"We'll discuss this when we get home. I gotta go."

Petunia made a smacking sound into the cell phone.

***

Yo. I be sittin' in da dawg crib an' practicin' mah supafly ghetto hand

signals. They peep supa ghetto fabulous cuz o' all dese mysterious marks up

'n' down mah arm. Den I be hearing mah motherfuckin' aunt an' mah

brothafuckin' uncle havin' dis whacked-out argument. 

"Vernon! I got another one of those drive-bys! The note said, 

'Aiight, ya sorry mofos, we be gettin' Hairy, Da Homie Dat Didn't Die in an

houa! We gonna take da homie outta yo' hands, considerin' ya don't seem ta

like da kid much! Signed,'" again Petunia wrinkled her nose and squirmed a

little, "'Pimp Daddy.'"

"Pimp Daddy? That miserable kid is going to turn out just like his

parents, Pansy and Lame."

"Our relative, the son of a common pimp and prostitute! If word got

out . . . can you say major corporate scandal?" added Petunia.

Uncle Vernon nodded in agreement. "But if we let this mysterious . . .

person take away Hairy, we won't have to deal with him at all. And think of

all the food expenses we'd be saving!"

"That's the most brilliant idea I've heard in a while," said Petunia, "Why

the hell didn't we just get rid of him in the first place if we hated him so

much?"

***

Vernon and Petunia positioned themselves in front of the dog cage,

trying to use their "CEO poses" to look as intimidating as possible to Hairy,

who was much more interested in drumming on the bars of the dog cage,

banging his head up and down. 

"Hairy," Vernon began threateningly, "Get out of that cage. We have

something to tell you."

Submissively, Hairy crawled out of the cage and stood before his aunt

and uncle. Dudley's outgrown pants were so low they dragged to the floor,

revealing a couple inches of holey boxers.

"Hairy! Pull your pants up and turn them around the right way!

Someone is going to get you and take you away from here. He left us

notes."

Petunia studied Hairy's face for a reaction. It was stoic.

"Where?" Hairy finally asked.

"We don't know," answered Vernon, "We figured it's something to do

with your dead parents. All we have are these notes that we got via drive-by

shootings."

Hairy's face lit up in the biggest show of emotion he had shown in a

while.

"DUUUUUUUUDE!"

Midway through the fourth "U," a tall figure bust through the wall.

"Do you have any idea how much that plaster cost? I'm gonna slap a

lawsuit on you!" yelled Vernon.

"Vernon, ya can take dat lawsuit an' _shove it up yo' ass_," said the

man, winking at Hairy.

The man stood so tall he was taller than the mantelpiece, with a thick 

build. However, the most noticeable thing about him was the floor length

purple coat with faux-zebra trim. Completing the ensemble was a matching

wide-brimmed purple hat with a long feather tied around the middle. It was

the kind of getup that made Petunia want to say, "Where did you buy that

outfit? The dollar store?" while parading around in an Armani suit. Luckily,

for her sake, she refrained from doing so.

The giant addressed Hairy, "Name's Ho-grid, but ya can call me Pimp

Daddy."

"Hey, waz up da dilly-o," was Hairy's greeting. Then the two did an

elaborate hand ritual while the aunt and uncle watched, pretending not to

notice and waiting for it to be over.

"Do you at least have the common courtesy to tell us what this is

about? This has something to do with his no-good parents, does it not?"

interrupted Vernon. Pimp Daddy removed his hand from Hairy's.

"Yeah, Hairy Pimper here is--"

"Mah last name's Pimper? Dat's the sweetest tightest ghettoest ding I

heard in mah life!"

Pimp Daddy ignored Hairy's, erm, outburst.

"Hairy is continuing the legacy of his parents, Pansy and Lame Pimper. 

Bless their hearts-- such an honorable way to die, too," said Ho-grid.

"Honorable? Dat's some whacked-up shiat yo! Car crashes are az about

az honorablae az dyin' in yo sleep!"

Hairy wasn't allowed to speak like that in front of his aunt and uncle,

so he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

"Car crash! Hairy, mah brotha, yo mama no teach ya nothin'! Ya see,

Lame be da pimpinest pimp in London. He be a-workin' da street corners

twenty-fo' houas a day, and hiz hoes be sellin' fasta dan McDonald's fries,"

Pimp Daddy told Hairy.

"Whadda bout mah mama, yo?"

"Yo mama wuz uh suburban biatch, but she really wanna be a ho in da

hood. She met Lame when she wuz a teenage runaway yo, an' she go werk

fo' him. She wuz hiz best ho, yo. She be turnin' mo' tricks dan David

Copperfield. And da two o' dem wuz makin a bunch o' dough till dat wun deal

gone bad. Voldemort, he be wun badass dealer yo, an' he be a-shooting yo

parents. But dat bullet be ricochetin' off yo' fo'head. Dat's why you be

known as, 'Da Homie Dat Didn't Die.'"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia looked at the red round mark on Hairy's

forehead. 

"We just thought his parents were one of those Hindu freaks," the

offered.

"But anyway, I'm going to take Hairy away to a type of boarding

school," said Pimp Daddy.

"Boardin' skoo? Dat's some freaky shit yo!"

"Ah, but dis skoo is tiiiiiggght. Ya learn how ta be da pimpinest pimp o'

all time!"


	2. Hairy be Pimpin'

************  
I be down wid dis ho'le pimp skoo idea. Ho-grid and I be goin' ta sum mad madness hood, Diagon Alley, dat was all magikal and shiat. I be buying myself a ho-whackin' stick! Nuttin else interesting happened. Word.  
*****  
Hairy Pimper scowled at the modest interior of the Hogwarts express. It was far, far from the bright pink Cadillac he had envisioned, which was, after all, what you'd expect to ride in to get to a pimp school. Eventually, he plopped down right next to Hermione Granger, eyeing her weirldly.  
"Yo, mah homez. Whad da fuck's sup now?"   
Hermione's face registered a look of confusion for a few seconds.  
"I'm very fine, thank you."  
"What be yo' name, biatch?"  
Hermione screwed up her face at the mention of the word.   
"Her-Hermione. Hermione Granger."  
"Ho-mione, ya gotta ghetto booty and a pimpin' figga. You be mah ho, yo."  
"I will NOT be your prostitute! I'm sure that's breaking at least fifty school rules!" screamed Hermione.  
Hairy launched into an impromptu rap. "I yo' pimp, you mah bitch, give me all yo' dough!" This only made Hermione flush with embarrassment and anger.  
"Ho-mione! Ha ha!" yelled a voice from behind. Ron Weasley poked his head up over the seat behind Hairy's and Hermione's. He was completely unaware of the meaning of "ho," but he wanted to get back at her for yelling at him that running in the aisle was a rule violation.  
"I'm so very sick of having my name mispronounced. _Please_, Ron," said Hermione.  
"Brutha, don't be messin' wid me when I be gettin mah mack on, yo," Hairy addressed Ron. Ron gave Hairy a blank stare.  
"I'd expect _more_ from the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived," said Hermione, still mad about the "ho incident."  
"Da Boy who Lived? Dat is WACK SHIZZIT, yo. You be callin' me Da Homie dat Didn't Die or P. Hairy, mah boo."  
"P. Hairy," thought Ron, "That reminds me of a name on one of my father's muggle compact discs."  
"You. Homebrutha. What be yo' name?" Hairy asked Ron.  
"I be Infamous R.O.N.," answered Ron, quite proud of being able to come up with this name on his own, based on another of his father's CDs.  
"Dat's wun phat nickname, homez. Ya chill wid me, ya gotta be smooooooovve wid da ladiez," Hairy spread his hands apart when he said "smoooove."  
"You call asking a complete stranger to be your prostitute being 'smoooove?'" asked Hermione. Hairy shot her a Ghetto Scowl.  
"Ho-mione be my ho, but she be so louzy, she ain't make no dough. Infamous R.O.N., do you know of any other hos?"  
"There be some in da gardening shed on the Hogwarts grounds," replied Ron, or should I say the Infamous R.O.N., trying to copy Hairy's manner of speaking.  
"I ain't be talkin' bout no gardenin' tools! You ain't down wid da ghetto jive, homedawg. Hos be whores, hoochie mamas . . ."  
"Ohhh. . ." Infamous R.O.N. smiled at the thought. Somehow he doubted that the wholesome Cho Chang or his own sister would be interested in becoming Hairy's "hos."  


***  


Yo, Hairy here. I be arrivin' at Ho-warts Skoo, an' Ho-grid be tellin' me dat I gotta be in wun of fo' crackhouses. And dis getz bettah: A HAT be tellin' me which wun I be in. Da P. Hairy needz ta preserve his rep fo' da ladiez. He ain't be wearin' no pussy hat. But den da' hat be rappin'.  
"All you mofos bettah shut the fuck up,  
Cuz da Sortin' hat be sayin' whassup.  
If you be in Hufflepuff dat be coo'  
De be all loyal but de be foo's.  
If you got mo' brains dan booty,  
Ravenclaw be yo' house of beauty."  
And it be sayin' sum otha shiat, yo, but I don't hear cuz I be gettin down wid da bit. I be puttin' da hat on backwards like a true gangsta and bustin' a move on da Ho-warts floor.  


***  


Hermione walked through the doors like a prisoner on her way to an execution. Her first day of wizarding school, and being called to Dumbledore's office! No one would ever want to marry her now!   
"Hermione," said Dumbledore, interrupting her train of thought, "sit down."  
"Yes, sir!" she sputtered.  
"We've been hearing rumors that you are involved in prostitution! No Hogwarts student of ours is to have such a job!"  
"But I did no such thing! Harry--"  
"One hundred points from Gryffindor on the grounds of prostitution!"

  
  
  
  



End file.
